


Just Like Firewhisky

by pilotjones



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Ilvermorny, F/M, History of Magic in North America, Hurt/Comfort, Legilimens Character but I won't tell you who, Mystery, Not a copy of Hogwarts but there's eastereggs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilotjones/pseuds/pilotjones
Summary: She's wrapped in all the shine and glitter of a New Years Eve celebration. It's like she was a living form of Lumos.Ben was drunk on Rey - had been for years, and no magic locked up in the school, or in the power of MACUSA, in the entire world would ever measure up to what it felt like.





	1. one

 

 

Last time Ben had performed accidental magic he’d been 6 years old.

 

It must’ve been a Friday because mom had been home early from work and gone off to buy groceries. He remembers walking inside the kitchen to see her unpack the brown paper bag of vegetables and fruit only to slowly shift is focus to the table. He remembers it so vividly; a clear image of three sets of plates.

 

And then suddenly everything exploded.

 

The bouquet of periwinkle and violet decorating the table scattered and the small pieces coming from the vase shot out in all different kinds of directions. It was like a rippling effect. Everything around the third plate was ruined. Water spilled out over the table and up above, the yellow lamp started flickering. It turned up in such a high volt that eventually, after almost reaching the same brightness as an exploding star, it imploded and went dark.

 

Three plates set on the table.

 

Months had gone by and the third plate had always been left empty and untouched.

 

It had made him so mad -- so angry because why couldn’t mom understand that he wasn’t coming back? He hadn’t shown up for Thanksgiving last week, so what on earth made her think he was coming back? Ever? What did she expect? Dad walking through the door with yet another one of his smug smirks as he waves and tells them that he’d been gone for longer than planned but that he was back now and everything was finally going to go back to normal? It wasn’t like that. And although a 6-year-old Ben could see that, his mom couldn’t. So she kept setting the table, kept expecting, kept hoping. She didn’t understand why he’d left in the first place.

 

Now, years later, Ben had come up with all the words his 6 year old self hadn’t been able to grasp. He knows the frustration and hurt and the words that never came through back then that Friday evening, instead moving through magic to explode half of the kitchen.

 

Sometimes he wonders what she would say if he ever told her the truth… It’s a practiced and nearly perfected monologue he now knows by heart, but he’s never gotten to share it with anyone. And if anyone were supposed to hear it, it would be mom… He wonders how she would react. Then he remembers that she doesn’t need that truth. He remembers that her heart is already heavy enough. And he wants his mother to stay the way she was; steady as a rock. So he stay silent and watch the word explode.

 

This time, when Ben triggers accidental magic, it’s worse.

 

Ilvermorny is a big school, better described as a fortress, but on this very night – at least to Ben Solo – it was like the school was built out of a deck of cards. It didn’t matter that the corridors and rooms were digging into the cliffs of Mount Greylock, neither did the wreath of misty clouds and wards do any good. Some corridors, much like the one Ben was rushing through at this very moment, were half cut into the rocky walls, the contrast of smooth and sharp already there. Any reasonable and not as irrational wizard would’ve probably compared the task to the same as to move the entire mountain.

 

Cuts keep slicing into the school.

 

Despite the strong hold against the cliff walls, Ben still manage to do a fair amount of damage to the school. It almost feels like he’s about to blow off the entire roof of the castle-- and although his eyes are already red and blurry, Ben can still see the world tear itself apart. Windows starts to rumble until they finally give in and turns into dust. The marble floor below him starts to give in to cracks, like an earthquake moving underneath the castle to swallow it whole.

 

At the back of his head, Ben imagines Rey running after him. Catching up to him just in time before it’s too late to take a step back away from the destruction. He imagines her gripping onto his forearm; swinging him around after finally catching up to his abrupt exit, telling him stop. Telling him it’s not worth it. And for a second there’s a wave of worry overflowing his system because what if she got hurt? What if she followed him into this warzone of uncontrolled Oppugnos and Tempests jinxes--- the made up scenario makes him bitter.

 

Who was he kidding? After what had just happened, Rey would never run after him.

 

If dad would be here he'd probably tell Ben he's still just a kid. So young and still just a god damn kid. Even so, Ben knew a thing or two. He'd learnt it from Rey. And now all of a sudden it's  _hurting_. It's like he's walked into the battle blind and all those happy times just suddenly gone. Overgrown.

 

It feels like there’s only a third of him left. One broken; one still hers.

 

The fresh imprint of his last memory of Rey makes him want to scream. It makes his magic crack. It keeps feeding on the burn and it keeps destroying and keeps getting worse and worse by every passing second. He doesn’t remember feeling this much back when he was 6. He doesn’t remember it being this bad.

 

Unlike last time it doesn’t seem to stop.

 

Last time mom had rushed across the battlefield of cracked glass and splintered furniture and held him close to her heart, caged inside to her warmth and comfort. Last time he’d let the wandless magic flow through his angry nerves she’d been there to catch him, rocking him back and forth until he’d calmed down again.

 

This time that didn’t happen.

 

He fell to the bottom of the dark abyss and he stayed there.

 

He’s so far away from home.

 

He’s not where he’s supposed to be.

 

Not in heart, not in the right mind and definitely not in the right part of the school. Instead of taking the fastest corridor that would have led him all the way back to his dorm had been completely ignored - opting for the completely opposite direction. He’s far away. As far away as possible… needs to be. It’s either that or going back.

 

(He won’t go back, no matter how much an invisible force is tearing and clawing at his coat  _pulling_  to drag him all the way back.)

 

Then there’s the constant reminder that Rey didn’t want him to go back.

 

He needs to scream. Let out a roar of the pain and anger and hurt and let it tear down the whole building … any other day and he would’ve probably worried about waking up the First Years, but at this very moment, yelling his lungs out only seems like the right thing to do. It would fit together with how the cracks from the marble floor had now spread up into the walls, and how the ceiling above was starting to vibrate under the invisible pressure rising in the air.

 

However, used to the restriction of muting himself, Ben stays quiet.

 

He doesn’t add to the crescendo of destruction, but merely just watch as it unfolds.

 

He doesn’t stay there and wait for it all to end. Neither does he stay and wait to get caught by someone who’d been stirred awake by his bursts of anger. No, he starts moving again, rolling up his sleeves as he quickens his pace to get away from the now bare and carved out walls and the empty window frames, now giving an open access for the wind to rush inside and paint goosebumps over his skin.

 

 _Shh, baby_ , he can hear his mothers voice lull at the back of his head. a suppressed and long forgotten memory from the fist time he’d done something this horrible.  _It’s going to be all right. Stay close and you’ll be okay._

Closing his eyes, Ben checks his back pocket for a cigarette, but he finds nothing.

 

It’s dark out and even though there are some surviving lanterns hanging above, shadows starts casting mind games. The idea of casting a Lumos is quickly thrown away, afraid that maybe once he starts casting something as simple as a light charm he might just lose control again.

 

Ben keeps running faster. He’s like a raging bull, his shoes digging into the stone below with his thundering steps. Without the Lumos it’s like running blind; everything is so dark and rushed and blurred. And even though his eyes are scanning everywhere for some kind of escape he doesn’t notice how one of the shadows suddenly turn completely  _solid_.

 

At the speed he was going at, hitting the wall makes Ben trip backwards almost to the point of falling. He braces himself for impact, but the ground never swallows him. Instead, a sweeping hand shoots out and grabs him by his forearm, cold and metallic in a firm grip.

 

Face to face with one of the enchanted Suits of Armor, servant to the castle, Ben’s eyes widen.

 

Usually these enchanted guards are used to guide First Years around the mind-boggling castle, but once most students have learned the castle grounds, the pair of guards retreated back to a familiar stand next to the Wampus entrance. (Not that they ever stopped someone from entering the common room. Mostly they were at a constant bickering night and day poking at each other, only stopping every now and then to wave a student a welcome or goodbye.)

 

This time, however, the guard is standing completely still.

 

That’s not good.

 

And even though Ben knew that suit was empty – even though the helmet was completely hollow, he felt watched. Maybe it was the way the moonlight from one of the high-up windows reflected in the polished suit almost making the light vibrate of its silver form. It gave the suit a movement of a hummingbird. Hovering but frozen.

 

The air around them crackled from the intensity of Ben’s anger.

 

When Ben was a First Year, he’d once gotten to climb up onto one of the Suits’ shoulders when he’d been late for Charms class. Back then he’d been tiny and short – not tall and lanky like he was today. Today he was almost the same height as the Suits of Armor, and while it did swell some pride in his chest, in this particular moment, he felt like a First Year again.

 

The armor was a giant compared to Ben’s shrunken form.

 

This wasn’t good.

 

 _Shit_.

 

Gulping, Ben yanks his arm out of the iron grip, hissing as he felt the bruises already forming around his wrist. The suit takes a step back, but it doesn’t move to clear the path. Instead, the now free silver hand rise up to point towards the corridor Ben had just left behind. It’s motioning for the common room, silently telling him to go back.

 

Ben turns around; fully expecting to see the corridor left in ruins and cracks from his burning magic lingering in the air. When he takes in the corridor, however, it’s completely healed. There are no signs of broken windows or trashed lanterns and the floors and walls are completely intact. Slowly putting the pieces together, Ben turns back to the suit of armor again.

 

It felt like drowning himself in razor wire, trying to keep his calm.

 

The armor nods towards the corridor again, reminding him to  _go back._

 

Nostrils flaring up at the Suit of Armor, Ben felt himself reaching for his wand. Maybe it was the fact knowing that he was up to something undefeatable. Maybe it was the fact that all of his destruction had been erased. All the cracks in the walls, the lanterns – it didn’t matter. Just like going face to face with this suit of armor wouldn’t do any harm but to himself.

 

When his fist collides with the armored chest there’s a loud crack of metal echoing through the castle. Silver echoes charges over and across the corridor and it takes a moment for Ben to recognize the pain shoots from his fist all the way up his arm in a pulsating quiver.

 

The Armor doesn’t move.

 

Ben keeps pulling on the pain, so determined to put a dent into the solid armor.

 

The metal arm made another gesture for Ben to go back to his dorm.  _Go back._

 

He wants growl out that Tin Man should mind his own business. But he’s drained, all the wandless magic slowly making him feel dead. Even if he tried to throw a Stunner on the guard, it was almost a guarantee that it would only come out as a puff of air. He hadn’t even seen it coming; one second he’d sent multiple silent Bombardas over the corridor, the next he’d been face to face with the armor, suddenly so weak he couldn’t even stand. Knees threatening to give out, one of Ben’s hands shoot out to grab onto the suit. There’s a burn starting to spread out through his tightly pressed fists all the way through to the tip of his fingers. The closest windows start to tremble. It’s the final push before giving up.

 

He’s so exhausted. Just empty.

 

“ _Move_ ,” he orders the Suit of Armor, and his voice comes out raspy. “I said  _move_.”

 

He takes a step back for a stronger momentum, ready to pounce and tackle the unbeatable guard to the ground - but just before he can swing back, the guard takes a step aside. At first he thinks it’s a trick; that the guard is bluffing and waiting for ben to take a step inside the trap, but nothing happens. Once again he is faced with a dark and empty corridor.

 

No longer caught in the cold reflection of himself and the moon, the burn only intensifies.

 

He feels himself slipping again. So angry with himself, with the world, with how everything had ended up. How he’d held on too tightly and how he couldn’t take it all back.

 

  

* * *

 

 

Rey is missing.

 

To be fair she’s been missing all week. They hadn’t sat at their regular table for the entire week; Rey’s shoulder never bumping into his as she tries to get him to wake up during breakfast. Not a single tone from her voice filtering through the commotion over lunch as she would lure him into whatever conversation Finn and Hux were in the middle of.

 

None of it.

 

There had been a time, only five years ago, when he didn’t even know her name. He had spent the entire night trying to understand how he once hadn’t been part of her life, vice versa, how Rey hadn’t been part of his. Couldn’t fathom how they hadn’t always been like this.

 

_Rey. Rey. Rey. Rey._

 

He’d found himself a family outside the home he’d grown up with, he’d found a place where he belonged, with someone he belonged to, and he’d lost it for a week. Maybe forever. And while Ben had grown up in an environment of tipping around on broken eggshells and constant debates and arguments, this time he hadn’t stood over by the side-lines and watched it happened. Tonight he’d been the one to start the fight; he’d been the one who pushed for change.

 

This time she’s completely gone.

 

Because even though they’d fought over the entire week, he’d at least been able to spot her at the other side of the Grand Hall. Sure, she might always had left in a hurry whenever he’d arrived, but she’d at least been there. In this shitty situation he’d put himself in, he’d at least been given the chance and small mercy to actually catch a glance of her before she would run away. And even if her glares had been cutting deep, that had been much better than  _this_.

 

It was searching for a ghost with no signs of life.

 

Almost as if he’d made her up.

 

No one mentioned her, no one said her name or talked about anything that could possibly trigger a reminder of her. It was like she’d disappeared into thin air and everyone around them acted like she wasn’t even there anymore and Ben hated it. It felt wrong. The entire world was wrong; this wasn’t how it was supposed to be and no one seemed to bother to make it right again. He’d found himself a family outside the home he’d grown up with, he’d found a place where he belonged,  _with_  someone he belonged to. And while Ben had grown up in an environment of tipping around on broken eggshells and constant debates and arguments, this time he hadn’t stood over by the sidelines and watched it happened. Last night he’d been the one to start the fight; he’d been the one who pushed for change.

 

Only it hadn’t fixed anything. It had completely ruined everything.

 

And no matter how much he wanted to be the one to take it all back, he couldn’t. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t bring her back. He knew he’d fucked up last night. Yes, he was really fucking aware – hell, he’d spent the entire night replaying their fight on repeat like a broken record. Something inside of him was screaming that he shouldn’t have said what he’d said, done what he’d done, but he didn’t have any other choice. It was the only way. No matter how many different scenarios he’d made up, no matter how many words he could’ve changed, the fight always ended up with the same goodbye. Same hurt.

 

_I want it I want it I want it I want us I want you I want it all._

 

_I don’t want it I don’t need it you don’t owe me anything any pity any time Stay away Stay away from me It can’t be us It never was us Stop pretending - It’s not worth it I don’t need it. I don’t want it. Leave leave please just leave._

 

It’s when she doesn’t show up to breakfast that he knows there’s no hope left.

 

Distracted from his own personal hell, Ben’s attention and focus is suddenly brought elsewhere once a group of people burst through the enormous doors to the Grand Hall. They’re all dressed in the same uniform, most of them marching in with loud and heavy steps. Up front a familiar figure is leading the squad, and Ben instantly tears his eyes away.

 

He almost makes a head dive straight down into his bowl of cereal before Hux finally reaches the table, slamming down into the seat opposite of him. Droplets still shower down from his perfectly slicked back hair, confirming that he’d just been outside. He’s just returned from the Quodpot practice and judging from his flushed cheeks, it had been a tough session. He smells like gunpowder, though there’s no signs of the Quod actually exploding anywhere near Hux.

 

The basic structure of Quodpot is a simple game. Almost simple enough to understand on your first try. Akin to modern-day rugby, two teams of eleven players square off in an egg-shaped arena in which each team has a scoring field and a pot. The object is to take a bomb, also known as the Quod, from the middle of the court and put it in the other team’s pot before it explodes.

 

The ideal sport.

 

“Morning,” Hux salutes.

 

He’s still in his uniform; helmet and chest gear also wet from the rain. Not sure he can trust his own voice yet, Ben casts a Drying Charm without making a single sound or incantation, simply nodding at Hux in a silent greeting.

 

Ben steals a glance over his shoulder towards Rey’s usual spot, but she’s still not there. He checks all the other places she might end up sitting at. Still no luck.

 

Actually, it’s fairly clean of people. Most the tables are cleared, mostly just Thunderbirds passing time over stacks of food. Last year Poe Dameron had spent an entire week challenging his housemates to eat as many transfigured eatables as possible – (still holding the personal record.) And even now, a year later, some students were still relentlessly practicing their transfiguration on apples and potatoes.

 

No Rey.

 

On the other side of the room there’s a few Serpents huddled together, though most of them aren’t eating. Instead, they’re nose deep into their textbooks. Either that or they’re plotting. No one suspects them because - what, Horned Serpent?  _No, never._ But considering two of his best friends have let it slip, Ben knows better. Speaking of, he scouts the table for Finn and Phasma.

 

He can’t find them either. Though both of them aren’t exactly early birds.

 

Defeated and still finding no sign of Rey, Ben turns back to his own table.

 

Most of the Wampus Warriors joins in; huddling in the already cramped space, some of them still shuddering from the cold. The one who fills the empty seat next to Ben however is completely calm, already shoveling loads of bacon and eggs into his mouth. Ben narrows his eyes at the animalistic behavior, grip going white around his glass of orange juice. It’s hard to watch, but it doesn’t take long to recognize the jersey of their Point Attacker, Ernesto Alvarez.

 

“How was practice?” Ben finally asks, tearing his eyes away from the beast next to him.

 

“It was  _hell_ ,” someone mumbles, only earning a light slap to the back of his head from Hux, even though he had to stretch over several heads to reach. “ _Sorry_! Sorry.”

 

A player outside of Hux’s wide reach feels brave enough to add more to the explanation. “It took Armie half of the practice to decipher and explain  _his own goddamn flowchart_ ,” they add under their breath. “It was bad.”

 

“What about you? Tough night studying?” a voice asks behind Ben and he turns around to see Connix. She rolls her eyes in a sigh. “I totally get it. It took me  _hours_  to finish Charms.”

 

Ben gulps. “Um yeah… exactly. Studying,” he mumbles distantly.

 

“Well, good luck,” she smiles.

 

Ben does his best to replicate it.

 

“… you could always go ask Phasma for a Wideye,” she goes on to suggests after a short pause. “She’s got a whole stash of them, I think... helped me out during my first year of taking Astronomy. I wouldn’t have passed if it weren’t for her.”

 

Across the table, Hux scoffs at the mention of Phasma and the street-cred she’d brought up over the past six years at Ilvermorny. Horned serpents are the students least often caught for sneaking in contraband into school.  _Caught_  being the key word. Most students learn at some point in their education that if you want a nice stiff drink, you go to a Horned Serpent. During secret designated holidays, their entire common room turns into a speakeasy. Same goes if you need a potion without going to the Medical Wing to explain yourself; you go to Phasma.

 

At one point Hux would’ve probably been jealous, but he had enough of titles and honors of his own to make a name for himself. After all, he was Captain of the Wampus Warriors team, undefeated for the past three years.

 

“Think we got a chance against Pukwudgie today?” Ben raises an eyebrow at his friend.

 

Over all, Pukwudgies were a pretty agreeable house, if not a bit salty and surly around the edges. There was no problem with helping people who struggled with homework and more than often did they find a way into the other houses common rooms with soup if they heard someone had caught a cold… But all bets are off when they step onto the field. Maybe it’s a pride thing, but Pukwudgies are beasts when playing Quodpot.

 

“Sure, yeah,” Hux nods from behind his coffee mug, suddenly very diplomatic and careful with his words.

 

Ernie, on the other hand, lets out a barking laugh next to Ben, confident enough to make a short stop in his attack on the breakfast buffet presented at the table.

 

“Ha! We got it in the bag, dude,” he grins. In fact, Wampus beats Pukwudgie at Quodpot fairly often. They don’t actually practice that much, they just kind of win. “Especially since their best player didn’t show up to their team practice this morning.”

 

“What?” Ben chokes out.

 

“Yeah,” Ernie shrugs, gulping down yet another piece of toast. “I didn’t see her… Did you, Armie?”

 

If looks could kill, Ernie would’ve dropped dead under Hux’s furious stare across the table ages ago. From the tight grip on his fork, it almost looked as if Hux was about to jump over and stab the thing at Ernie because clearly this wasn’t something they were supposed to talk about, or even mention around Ben. Fortunately Ernie was still wearing his protective chest wear so even if Hux had tried to make a hit it wouldn’t have made a difference.

 

“ _Shut up_ , Ernie,” Hux growls under his breath, though it was already too late. "You have the brains of a Bundimun sometimes."

 

“Rey wasn’t there?” Ben’s eyes look up to scan the room again, but she’s still gone. “Why?”

 

With the exception of Hux, Rey was the most competitive person Ben knew. First time he’d brought her over for a visit during summer break she’d challenged both uncle Chewie and Han for a game of wizarding chess – winning both times, making a roar each time she took one of their pieces. When she was defeated by Leia, however, she throw a tantrum and nearly set fire to the living room. In other words; very competitive.

 

The fact that Rey hadn’t been at practice this morning changed all that.

 

Out of all the people at Ilvermorny, Ben knew how talented Rey was at hiding. He knew because more than often was he the only one who could seek her out. For reasons that made his heart ache, Rey had had to learn protection spells at a very early age – now at a level of technique Ben would be willing to bet at least 100 Dragots that she was better than their Charms Professor. Her  _Notice-Me-Not_ disillusionments, wards and Muffliatos were beyond powerful. Protecting herself was something she knew by heart.

 

The thought of her never taking down her walls again makes his stomach feel as if he had just swallowed a gallon of Draught of Living Death, twisting and burning, yet somehow still awake through all of it’s haunting effects.

 

“Dunno,” Ernie shrugs, turning around to look at Ben, only to notice how he’d just gone pale as a sheet. “You okay bro?”

 

Clearing his through, Ben blinked away whatever tears were starting to build up. He feels the burning is starting to rise inside of him again, but this time its not sourced from anger. It’s something else entirely and it freaks him out. He thought he’d been able to drown it all out. He’d spent the entire night trying to get rid of it but it hadn’t worked.

 

“You don’t look so good…”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Ernie gave him a pained look. Like it was so clear what had happened; impossible to miss, and Ben felt like throwing up. He swallowed down the bile, cautiously peeking back at the Point Attacker. He thought this whole week had gone by unnoticed by anyone outside their small inner circle of friends, which Ernie exactly wasn’t a part of.

 

“… is it that obvious?” he adds with a unnaturally small voice. He mentally kicks himself for sounding so stupid.

 

“No, no,” Ernie hurries. Ben was good at masking pain – mostly all of his masks went by unnoticed. Ernie was just as fooled as the rest of them. “You’re fine, dude. It’s  _Rey_  who’s been acting off all week.”

 

Somehow that was worse.

 

“Oh.”

 

Ernie lifts his hands as if to offer more explanation, but they’re empty. He’s struggling to explain. Rightfully so – the whole dynamic between Ben and Rey had always been on edge. “Just… The whole school is used to seeing you two arguing and running around each other and whatever, so now when you haven’t it’s—it’s not like how it’s supposed to be… and I don’t think anyone has ever seen Rey cry before and---”

 

“ _Ernie_!” Hux interrupts in a stern warning.

 

“All I am saying is that… well, I uh… it’s really sucks whatever fight you two have gotten yourself into this past week, but once you start hexing and jinxing each other it’s actually a threat to the safety of this school so… well, I think we need to do some damage control."

 

"Damage control?"

 

"Yeah! Last time you two had a fight the aftermath was at least 10 times worse than when that horde of pixies was set loose during the sorting ceremony.”

 

Ben gulped, feeling his hands start to slip.

 

He remembers that fight – it was child's play compared to last night.

 

How come that even when the clouds blocking his eyes were grey and dark and something sharp as ice was clawing at his chest, Ben  _still_  felt like he was burning up?

 

“I uh…”

 

“Listen, I don’t know what this fight is about, and it’s a tricky situation. But if I were you, I’d let her win this one.”

 

Ben closes his eyes.

 

If he let her win, he would never see her again.

 

He wants to stop listening – he wants Hux to tell Ernie to shut the fuck up again – but he just keeps talking.

 

“I mean, it will be worth it down the line.” A hand lands firm and strong on Ben’s shoulder, which rarely happens because most people don’t really reach the right angle, but sitting down it’s relatively a fair challenge. “My dad always used to say,  _lose the battle - but not the war_.”

 

Ben lets the words sink in for a moment but he won’t accept them. He pushes the hand away from his shoulder.

 

“But she’s wrong.”

 

She was so wrong about so many things. She just didn’t see it and it was so frustrating and it made him question everything because what had seemed so crystal clear from his view hadn’t even existed on her side. She hadn’t even thought about it. And then all of a sudden everything he’d ever thought was real crumbled down. Because if it didn’t matter anything to her, how could he still hold on after that?

 

It felt so wrong.

 

Felt wrong even considering that she might be right. Because that would end it… The end of their movie. It would end whatever light he’d kept safe within himself, all built from her.

 

“She’s wrong,” Ben repeats, and it’s stronger this time. Louder. “She has to be.”

 

“Doesn’t matter if she’s wrong. Just accept it and go back to normal again.”

 

“I can’t just give up,” Ben shook his head.

 

At that point, the two of them might as well had been talking in different languages, because the meaning behind every word was completely distorted. Ben didn’t have the heart to share the full picture, and Ernie, who really had know idea what the fight had even been about, just wanted it to go back to how it was supposed to be.

 

“Oh stop it with the hard man image. You couldn’t punch yourself out of a wet paper bag. Just let her win this one.”

 

“No offence, but you’re talking to a Wampus,” Hux jumped in, even though he could agree to Ernie’s accusation to some degree: the house which was mostly known for serving as warriors and body hadn’t only gotten the stereotypical candidate, but also the most diverting one. It came to almost everyone when Ben Solo didn’t even try out for the team or join the Duelling Club, instead finding himself spending most of his free time doing the exact opposite of what was expected of him.

 

“Still doesn’t take away from the fact that Ben needs to chill out and take a step back and fix this,” Ernie went on, pointing his stuffed fork at the culprit of the argument.

 

But Ben had already tried doing that. He’d tried to fix it last night. Then all the words had detonated and tore her away from him. It broke…  _They_  broke apart. It had felt like losing a limb - a heart - trying to make her understand.

 

It didn’t change anything. It didn’t fix anything.

 

No. Trying to fix it only had only made it worse.

 

“Look, just do yourself a favor and apologize,” Ernie repeated before he slowly rose from his seat. He opens his mouth to add the obvious (which actually wasn’t that obvious for Ben anymore)  _; she likes you, she’ll forgive you, she’ll take you back_. “See you at the game.”

 

“Don’t be late for warm-up!” Hux shouts over his shoulder, sighing and collecting himself before turning back to Ben. He leans closer over the table, his broad chest gear and his folded arms trying to seclude the two of them into a bubble. “You okay?”

 

“Whatever,” Ben shrugs.

 

“You didn’t return to the dorms last night,” Hux speaks in a low tone. “I just figured you and Rey worked it out, but when I didn’t see her this morning at practice I realized that wasn’t the case…” He tilts his head slightly. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben crosses his arms. “Not here.”

 

“You’re wearing yesterdays clothes,” Hux notes, giving Ben a fair heads up. “Stupid Third Years will probably start another rumor, you know…”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Where did you go?” Hux presses him for answers. He wants the full picture. He’s probably looking at this whole situation like it’s a Quodpot game. Strategically trying to analyze the outline of the opposing team and the faults and weaknesses. But it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t a game.

 

“Didn’t spend the night sleeping in some corridor if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

Hux narrows his eyes, thinking for a second whether or not to press on what exactly Ben had been up to after supposedly leaving the fight with Rey. It doesn’t seem like a priority at the moment, so he continues his interrogation. “Do you think Rey went back to her dorm?”

 

He must’ve noticed her absence this breakfast too, then.

 

Ben shrugs. Last memory of her hadn’t exactly been an easy one. “I hope so. We were close to her common room, right outside Herbology, so it only makes sense that she would. I don’t see where else she would go…” he drifts off, thinking of some of the many places she could’ve gone. Then again, knowing Rey, she wouldn’t want to risk running into him again after last night’s shitshow.

 

“Want me to try and talk to her?” Hux asks.

 

Ben scowled.

 

He knows, just as well as Hux - that it wouldn’t really do any good in talking with Rey on Ben’s behalf. It was  _their_  thing.

 

“We’re not a couple,” Ben echoes out the familiar phrase as if on autopilot.

 

Pure reflex.

 

“ _I know_ ,” Hux mutters, but just like Ben his words are programmed. No real meaning or thought put into it. “Just… hang in there.”

 

Ben frowned down at his plate as Hux pushed the now soggy bowl of cereal away, getting a new plate filled with pastries.

 

“I’m not really up for cranberry pie, Hux.”

 

“It’s Cranberry Pie Day. Eat up.”

 

“First and foremost,  _every day_  is cranberry pie day…”

 

Ben personally doesn’t know anyone who’s graduated from Ilvermorny who still enjoys cranberry pie. Cranberry- _anything_ , really. Even the color is frowned upon. You’ve had enough once you’d been forced to eat it every year on James Steward’s birthday during the mandatory bake-off. Pukwudgies house nearly always wins. (Once, Thunderbird won and good lord you would think it was the civil war all over again.)

 

“Exactly! Show some respect for the Founders.”

 

Somehow that comment cracks a smile at the edge of Ben’s otherwise very tightly pressed lips. Sneaking a glance up at Hux, it grows even wider because in the midst of scooping pieces of pie onto Ben’s plate and munching on his own food - Hux had now gotten a white and rather brilliant mustache made entirely up of whipped cream.

 

It was almost so perfectly fitted Ben could guess Hux had put it there on purpose.

 

Ben had to hand it to Hux; he was good at offering a distraction. Even if it only lasted for a few minutes.

 

Dropping his fork, Ben squeezed his eyes shut as he wheezed out a small laugh. He tries to block the image, but it’s stuck. He sways back from the table, clutching the edge as he tries to find his way back again. It’s even harder to calm down once Hux starts to ask him what he found so damn funny all of a sudden.

 

The distraction is cut short when a hand slams down on the table.

 

Looking up, Ben watches as Rose Tico takes a seat next to Hux. “Oh for goodness sake, Armie,” she mutters as she reaches over to take a closer inspection. Then, with a rather harsh hand she removes the whipped cream, despite the subject’s firm protests. Once the mustache is removed, she turns to Ben, eyes staring and judging.

 

They hadn’t seen much of Rose that entire week… Neither Ben nor Hux took Care of Magical Creatures but usually that didn’t stop them from seeing Rose. The main problem was that people in their circle of friends had been forced to pick sides during Ben and Rey’s fight. Naturally, Rose had tried to tend Rey’s wounds rather than Ben’s, because to most eyes, Ben seemed fine.

 

“Couldn’t you at least  _try_  to act hurt?” she finally raises one eyebrow at Ben, eyes still glaring. From the way she still kept pitching her voice, it alerted a handful of curious spectators to glance over to their spot in the big hall.

 

“Give him a break, Rose. No one’s dead,” Hux reminds her. “ _Don’t make a scene_.”

 

Rose slammed down into the seat next to him, maybe a compromise to make it more discreet.

 

She didn’t exactly lower her voice though…

 

“I just don’t understand why he is… why you seem completely normal while Rey’s all… Did you even have the same fight?” Rose asks, almost acting as if he was the living version of a Confundo. It was common knowledge that Rey and Ben had the strangest ways of communicating, but… “It doesn’t add up and it’s already gone really bad, okay? Prefects found her past curfew twice this week, you know. 3AM wanderings.”

 

Next to her, Hux audibly gulps at the news. There had been rumors all week circulating about the dark circles hanging under Rey’s now cold eyes, some more worrisome than others, but this confirmed it.

 

“You can’t blame Ben for this.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Rose mumbles. “I just don’t understand how he can act so cool.”

 

“I doubt he was holding a monologue during their fight,” Hux reasons, voice steady and much reminding of an attorneys. Just like the rest of the house, the ginger was tough as nails and steady as rock. And then maybe there was the fact that they would always, always work together to make it to the finish line. Caught with smuggled in goods within the schools secured walls? A vanishing Evanesco and  _Poof_! What contraband? Caught after curfew? A snap of his fingers and it’s long forgotten. “It’s on both of them, okay? There’s never such a thing as a one-sided fight. Both of them said stupid things.”

 

“Yeah… but a little warning from you would’ve been nice,” she huffs. “It’s not like her to miss breakfast. You  _know_  that.”

 

“I’ve already sent one of the prefects up with a load of breakfast to her dorm, okay?” Hux mutters. Even though he was pretty much the President of the Wampus house, that didn’t stop him from ordering around other Prefects from other houses. Everyone listened to Hux. Simple as that. “What else do you want me to do? It’s not like I can march over there and force her to come and and sit with us.”

 

Rose cringes at the image - shaking her head as if to clear it.

 

She turns towards Ben again. “Can you start explaining what happened last night or do I need to actually force it out of you?”

 

“It… It got out of control,” he whispers.

 

Rose grabs a nearby grape from the table and aims it at his head. It bumps off his forehead and rolls down to the floor. “ _No shit_  - it got out of control alright!” She grabs another one, but this time he’s ready to duck.

 

“I didn’t see it coming… she didn’t… I wasn’t _… I-I’ll stay away_ ,” Ben hurries to add, knowing, or possibly hoping that that would solve everything.

 

Rose closes her eyes, shaking her head. “No, just… Could you just try to be normal around her? It’s already weird enough.”

 

Hux crossed his arms defensively, mouth open to say something but his looks deceived him and he stayed quiet. He didn’t like how this week had turned out either.

 

“I don’t think that will fix it, Rose. We can’t exactly be around each other.”

 

“Hmf.. Words I thought I’d never heard spoken by Ben Solo,” Hux mutters to himself.

 

Taking the decision to now completely isolate Hux from the conversation, Ben turns directly to Rose again, eyes now begging.

 

“If you see her,” he tries. “If you see Rey could you… could you.. stay with her?” Make sure she isn’t alone, he wanted to add, but that was already a given. Rey was good at hiding.

 

“But you are always the best one of us at finding her,” Rose frowns.

 

“At least try?” Brown eyes dropped down to the table still served with breakfast. Or in his case, cranberry pie. “Make sure she gets to lunch?” he added weakly. “Tell her I’ll stay away from the Grand Hall. It’s all hers. I’ll eat back at my common room. Just make sure she eats. Please?”

 

Not promising anything, Rose slowly picks up another grape.

 

“When do you think you two will be ready to be in the same room again?” Rose asks skeptically.

 

He stretches the time by adjusting his robes over his shirt, blue and cranberry lining against his chest, identical to what Rose was wearing. Ilvermorny may be separated by inter-house squabbles much like at Hogwarts, but at the end of the day, they all leave school wearing the same blue and cranberry robes, sporting the same skill with a wand, raised to the same scrappy, witty, mod-podge tenacity that American witches and wizards embody so well.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Wrong answer, apparently, because second after he’s done he gets hit in the head with a grape again.

 

“Just be  _normal_ ,” Rose tries while Hux simultaneously raise his voice to speak over her. “Can’t get any worse than this, can it?”

 

Ben stays silent.

 

“Okay, well, I better get going,” Rose nods. “I’ll try to find you during Quodpot.” She then reaches over and gives his hand a light squeeze, smiling sadly before she walks away. Hux and Ben stay seated for a minute of silence, slowly forcing themselves to get something to eat.

 

Hux is halfway done with his toast when he drops his knife to his plate.

 

“I’m sorry about Ernie,” Hux finally says in a remorse tone, referring back to the ‘pep-talk’ his Point Attacker had given Ben earlier during breakfast. In other words telling Ben to just let Rey win. “I underestimated the level of his idiocy.”

 

“I… didn’t have many choices.”

 

“Still, Ernie is an idiot. He doesn’t know what you and Rey have… no one really does except the two of you… it’s out of Ernie’s level.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Ben says. “I’m sorry you and Rose and the rest of the gang needs to put up with this.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Hux rolls his eyes. “Rose is just a softie... I’m actually enjoying not having to listen to her rambles every single morning. And let’s not forget it’s kind of nice to get a break from Finn’s moral compass for once. Bunch of softies, all of them.“

 

“She still has a point.”

 

“It’ll work out,” Hux stubborn. “We should get moving.”

 

It takes a lot of work to get Ben to move. The Wampus Captain has to physically  _drag_  Ben away from the table, which would be a struggle to literally anyone but Hux. It didn’t have anything to do with muscle power or weights, however. It all came down to how stubborn you had to be to make the Tower of Ben move.

 

(Silly nickname made up by Rey during her Second Year. Unfortunately, it’d stuck like glue.)

 

“What do you think will happen at the game today?” Hux ask as they walk back towards the Wampus Common Room. Flashes from last night flicker at the back of Ben’s head and sounds of glass crashing against stone muffles his focus, but he’s still close enough to catch the question.

 

“I think we’ll win,” he shrugs, more than used to the odds betting in their house favor. So far, during all six years at Ilvermorny he’d only missed one game. He knew how it usually would play out. Pukwudgie would take a lead the first quarter of the game, then Ernie would swoop and score the first explosion for Wampus. After half-time, referee Simmons call out the scores half-half. Up on the grandstand of the stadium, Horned Serpents would take the opportunity to sell special blends of popcorn. Mostly they’re completely ignored each Pukwudgie and Wampus fan in the crowd, leaving it for the neutral Thunderbirds to purchase, hoard, and eat 89% of the popcorn.

 

“Graduation isn’t far away… If I don’t take home this years cup I might just strangle myself,” Hux mutters. “I wanna go out in style. I want to make my last year as Captain count.”

 

“You will,” Ben promise, though the mention of graduation does makes his voice falter.

 

There are two Suits of Armor standing guard by door to the Wampus Common Room. For a second Ben hesitates, carefully stopping just out of range from the guards. He wonders if there will be any consequences from last night. More than he already had, that is. But the armors stay complexly still – no clues of their last meeting left behind.

 

Hux doesn’t seem to notice Ben stopping; quickly pushing the doors open to rush inside.

 

The common room itself is something very reflective of the actual Wampus house; it’s warm and cozy, with plush furniture and wooden walls and frames like a hunting lodge. There are magical weapons decorated along the walls, along with various trinkets that students had nicked from the confiscated drawers of the teachers. Books and notes on hexes and curses are scattered about for students to learn from. The stone and wood walls are decorated with deceased Head of House portraits, the flags of Native tribes, Canada, America, and Mexico. As a bit of a joke there is a part of the loft that is solely decorated with broken wands and old post-it notes explaining how and when.

 

Once they reach their dorm, Hux makes a beeline straight for his bed, flat and tightly pressed compared to his roommate’s. Ben stumbles inside, nearly tripping over one of Hux’s dummy-quods from training. As soon as the door closes behind him he leaps over towards his bed, collapsing down into his unmade and mountain of pillows like a sack of potatoes.

 

Eyes start to drift up to the balks of his bed. Years of carving in names and dates, and then, closest to him and where his eyes usually rise up every morning there’s a picture he’d recently nailed up to the board. It’s a picture of the entire gang, waving like morons before the image finally blurs. Rose had nearly dropped the camera that day.

 

There’s several reminders of his friends scattered around the room. There’s potted plants, postcards from all around the globe, books with at least 30 % of the pages filled with post-its, polaroid-pictures: both magic and No-Maj, as well as mountains of clothes that had been circulating through the gang.

 

After a nearly impossible silence he slowly accepts the fact that he has so say something. And so he starts to explain. He explains how he’d spent the entire week thinking of the right words. Of how to explain. He explains how it had only taken him sitting through Monday’s lunch before realizing how shitty it was sitting at an empty table without Rey, but also how it had taken him all the way up until Thursday to realize how maybe this wasn’t going to fix itself on its own. And while he’d kept his calm, he’s started to realize just how empty everything was without her.

 

“After watching her on Friday sitting as far away from me as possible…  _refusing_  to even  _look_  at me, I just had to change it. I had to make it stop,” he goes on, only realizing the irony to his words after uttering them. “Didn’t realize it was going to stop as in end.”

 

He pushes two fingers to his temple, rubbing slightly as he felt the headache start to rise. His fingers trace over the cheekbone she’d slapped once he’d mentioned how their time was running out. Somehow he still feels the stinging.

 

“I found her just over by the Pukwedgie entrance. She said she was on her way to see me. That she’d had enough. And then when I… when I told her everything, it just flipped on me. She…” It’s weird saying it out loud. It’s like confirming the end of the world. It feels wrong. So so wrong that Rey is part of this doom that had spread over him. “She shut down.”

 

Hux shakes his head in disbelief, no words uttered.

 

“She told me to stop showing up… That it wasn’t fair.”

 

Then again, how was any of this fair?

 

“She didn’t… she didn’t see it,” Ben gulps, fingers pressing into white. The graduation nerves were biting on him again. Even if it was temporary, he still believed they still had until graduation, if not more. Just take Finn and Poe as an example; they still kept in touch on a daily basis, even when Poe was on the other side of the world touring.

 

“How did you leave it?”

 

“She told me to let her go--- told me I wasn’t allowed to care about her anymore.”

 

“Fuck.” Hux throws a glance over towards the closet in the room. Ben knows what he is thinking about; the loose floorboard they’d discovered in their third year together. They’d filled it with emergency rations you might say. That is if you included Firewhiskey and the Memorlings as part of the emergency. Sometimes it even was the supplies that caused the emergency, but no one really wants to take time to read into that, so they keep things the way they are. Stacked with booze and candy.

 

It was a miracle they hadn’t been caught by the staff yet.

 

“I don’t need it,” Ben mumbles. He takes a peak at his wristwatch. “I’m okay.”

 

He doesn’t seem to buy it. “Are you really okay though?”

 

“I can pretend.”

 

“ _Gorgon_ ,” Hux hisses. “We’ll have to get you back on your feet.”

 

“How?”

 

“Distractions,” he improvises, snapping his fingers. “Start with the game today. Stop thinking of what you could’ve said differently, or what you could’ve done differently, because done is done. You did the right thing and now you just gotta pick up the pieces. Step by step, okay? So start with getting back to yourself.”

 

Wrinkles form on his scrunched up nose.

 

“Fine. I’ll follow your lead.”

 

Hux smiles. “About time.”

 

Three hours later he’s completely drained from head to two.

 

Much like everyone else in the supporting crowd, it looks like he’d just swam across the lake to get there. The dark clouds from this morning still hadn’t thinned out, but rather grown bolder. It didn’t seem like they would give up any time soon either. They’re hanging so heavy and low that they’re almost touching the ground.

 

It takes about five minutes of waiting before a loud horn in blown. Much to everyone’s disappointment, the Wampus VS Pukwudgie game is called out as cancelled. The Pukwudgie Captain tries to argue that it’s merely a light drizzle, but her protests are quickly shot down by the roaring sound of thunder and whipping rain moving over the court. Referee Simmons doesn’t usually like to take setbacks like this, especially this late in season, but according to both No-Maj and Wizarding reports there’s a F-3 tornado warning closing in.

 

So much for a distraction…

 

While most students start to make a flow towards the stairs and exit, Ben stays seated.

 

He watches as the Pukwudgie Captain keeps throwing her arms around, all the while Hux casually leans against his broom, tired eyes watching the scene unfold. From the looks of it, Simmons isn’t having any of it.

 

Ben doesn’t stay seated because of the Quodpot. He couldn’t care less. He stays because she hasn’t shown up yet. Rey is nowhere near the rest of the team – and even if she’d casted an Disillusionment on herself, he would’ve caught her. It was hard to miss her own scavenged and home-charmed broom (a deathtrap if you ask anyone but Ben) and her several sizes to big helmet and the generations of passed down protective gear.

 

“She didn’t show up?” Rose asks next to him. The tip of her wand pointing upwards towards the sky - producing a semi-transparent, bluish umbrella of magical energy just big enough to cover them both. There’s a bag of popcorn resting in her lap, and Ben carefully takes a fistful and pops them into his mouth. Today it’s a caramel flavor.

 

“Not that it matters,” he shrugs after finishing his popcorn. “It’s cancelled.”

 

“Mercy Lewis, it’s even worse than I thought…” Rose avoids looking at him before continuing. “I never found her,” she admits. “I checked her dorm. Nothing…”

 

Ben frowns, not really happy with the news just given.

 

It’s a common joke at Ilvermorny that Pukwudgie students live in the school’s vibrant greenhouse. 

 

And, really, it isn’t far at all from the truth.

 

The common room is burrowed under the school’s impressively large green house. Every room and window is overgrown with different beautiful plants, flowers and trees. Each room in engorged with Komorebi-light, and the delightful scents of earth and flowers. Last time Ben had visited he’d nearly had to fight his way through a jungle of Monstera to make it back to Transfiguration class in time. Not once had he even as much as considered checking his wristwatch, too wrapped up listening to Rey to even realize how late he was.

 

“Do you have any ideas where I could find her?” Rose interrupts the memory.

 

He mentally sorts through the list of places Rey has found over the years. He cancels out the Herb Garden and all the other places outside. Then, with an aching heart, he also sorts out all the places he considered ‘ _theirs’_. There were the gardens and the greenhouse, more specifically beneath the silver leafed tree bearing golden apples. Last time they’d been there, Ben had made Rey read out a letter he’d gotten sent from his mom, too scared to read it himself. He’d rested in her lap while one of her hands ran through his hair in comfort.

 

Man, he would miss those moments.

 

“You could check with the Staff. Or at the library.”

 

“Do you think she’s done something?” Rose asks, eyebrows pulled together. “I’m starting to worry.”

 

“Rey can take care of herself,” Ben answers solemnly. He’d learnt that the hard way. “Maybe she just needs time.”

 

“It feels like I’m at an disadvantage,” Rose crosses her arms. “I wish I could just, I don’t know… Accio her or something.” The innocent and slightly ridiculous idea makes Ben smirk. He would be lying if the same thought hadn’t crossed his mind one or two times.

 

“Magic doesn’t work that way.”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Rose mutters. She looks over her shoulder towards the exit. It’s only Ben and Rose left now. Even the Quodpot Captains has given up staying by now. Probably time to move. “See you at dinner?” she adds through a struggle of standing up and syncing it up with Ben and the rain.

 

Ben shakes his head. If he could somehow make that easier for Rey, he would back off. “Nah. Just in case she shows up… I don’t want to scare her away.”

 

Rose looks offended. “She’s not afraid of you, if that’s what you think.”

 

“I know, but still… I want her to come back.”

 

Rose digs in on a handful of popcorn, struggling to gulp it down. Maybe it’s stress-eating, but she doesn’t care. She takes another portion, maybe tries to think of something to answer it all. She leans her head against Ben’s bicep, biting her lip as she stops herself from saying something. Perhaps she was still blaming him. He wouldn’t judge her if she did. Rose was right about most things.

 

Dinner skipped and replaced with two granola bars, Ben tries to distract himself for the remaining day. He digs into his essays and homework, only giving himself short and limited breaks. Hux keeps him company for a full hour, acting as a DJ over by their LP player. It’s a raspy and old thing; scratches and dents sprinkled over its surface. It worked completely fine – mostly thanks to Rey. She was the one who’d packed it into giftwrapping paper last year.

 

He’s going to miss Rey’s birthday this year.

 

Then again, she didn’t want him there, so what did it matter?

 

She’d already found the very poorly hidden present underneath his bed first week of the term. Since then, however, he’s moved it to a place he knows she couldn’t reach without a little help.

 

Closing his eyes, Ben wants to imagines his hands on her waist, right there next to the small gap between her shirt and pants. Just an inch away from touching her sun kissed skin. Lifting her up would be easier than lifting a feather. She would probably elevate like a ballerina, though quickly losing her sense of calm, bursting out into a fit of bubbly laughter once he accidentally grace her bare skin.

 

That wasn’t Rey though. Not anymore.

 

The LP has stopped playing, the last notes of the tune dimming into oblivion. Hux has fallen asleep in a strangely odd and stiff position. If he hadn’t been snoring, it would’ve looked like he had been put in a stand-by mode. For once, Ben understands Finn’s repeated jokes about Hux secretly being a robot. Sighing, Ben levitates his roommate over into his stiff bed. He won’t tuck him in, but at least he won’t wake up at 3AM to whine about a sore neck.

 


	2. two

 

 

_“--they broke up?”_

 

A group of Third Years flow past Ben where he stands frozen, still completely paralyzed from the words one of the girls had just hushed out. They don’t try to make him move - instead doing everything in their power to avoid eye contact as they pass around him like parting water. Although they completely dodge around Ben they can’t seem to stop themselves from looking over towards the end of the corridor.

 

 _“Looks like it,”_ one of the girls mutters, nodding towards where Rey was sitting.

 

She’s in blue jeans and her wand is spun up to secure a bun crowning her head. She’s got her head tilted against Finn’s shoulder that’s sitting next to her, lips moving as he reads out an article from the levitated newspaper hovering in front of them. The wand in her hair looks dangerously close to poking one of his eyes out but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all wrapped up in whatever story he was reading… Judging from the look in Finn’s eyes, Ben could only guess that the blurred picture on the front page is no one other than Poe Dameron and that they were currently reading some article about the Quidditch tour Poe was part of.

 

“ _At least she stopped crying. That’s always something.”_

_“Must’ve been a tough break up.”_

 

 _“They weren’t even together to begin with_ ,” a Third Year breaks Ben’s train of thought.

 

“ _What_? _Seriously_? _Didn’t Jack see them last Valentine when they--”_

 

_“—no, Jack made that up! They’re not together.”_

 

Much to Ben’s relief the Third Years takes a quick turn around the closest corner of the corridor and their voices quickly tunes out. The only sound left is the soft taps of shoes against the marble and the cracks of fire. Though Ben can barely hear it. Ben’s sole focus is glued to Rey and Finn. Or who was he kidding- it was Rey. Always Rey. Only Rey.

 

She’s too far away for Ben to hear anything, but from the looks of it, she isn’t talking.

 

She had stayed invisible all of Sunday, but once the weekly schedule was recycled, she was suddenly _right there_. He’d overslept during breakfast, but after the two first blocks of classes he’d caught her leaving Transfiguration. She’s given the minimal effort to work the school uniform and her shirt isn’t buttoned properly. Small locks of curls framed her cheeks; nervous hands every now and then trying to tuck them back behind her ears.

 

It’s a short 20-minute window between classes, but Rey and Finn always make the most of it.

 

Third block of lessons is closing in, and while Ben and Finn are scheduled for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Rey is off to Arithmancy. From the way Finn jolts up from a quick glance at the clock and a bang of realization, Finn hurries out his explanation before he gives her a short one-armed hug. The newspaper is folded in half before passed over to Rey, adding a short goodbye before running off in the direction of his common room.

 

Ben doesn’t even care about getting in early to class anymore. He’s stuck with Rey.

 

Merlin, he missed her.

 

He watches her make a stop over by one of the windows, taking a deep breath to herself from a tough lecture. Transfiguration didn’t usually offer a soft start to the day. She was in the advanced class - but from the looks of it, it was proving to be more stressful than necessary. It’s not that Rey finds the branch of magic more difficult to work with than the others: it was the professor that was the source of the problem. Or rather the professor’s _accent_.

 

Despite that Ilvermorny wasn’t the only Wizard School in America, it’s considered the most prestigious one. Almost as if you could take the entire Ivy League schools and roll them up into one. Whether or not it’s the “best” is up to interpretation. Still, this grand reputation made it so that a lot of the talented witches and wizards working as staff at Ilvermorny often came from all over.

 

Meet Professor Dunkleman, the Transfiguration professor, but more commonly known for the heaviest Boston accent ever to walk this earth. There are a lot of local professors, of course, but then there’s _Dunkleman_... somehow a working miracle who somehow manages to, despite the accent, give the perfect incantations to all his spells during class.

 

(90% of the time First Years asks for subtitles during their first lesson.)

 

Then there more minor cases walking around the halls of the school. There were Canadian accents, professors with Midwest accents, several Native American professors with smooth, lulling accents, and some Mexican professors who slip into Spanish when they get super excited about their subject. Like last year when Ben had ended up spending an entire term sitting in with Phasma during her Astronomy class just so that he could translate the Spanish rambles whenever they happened.

 

Ben searches Rey’s face for more clues.

 

The backdrop of the window paints her hair streaked with golden sunbeams and she looks like something mythical. He wants to breathe out her name but he can’t find it. Something makes him stop. A stain on the image… something wrong.

 

She must’ve sensed a shift in the air, because when she turns to face him she’s already composed herself into a guarded stance, hand already ready to cast whatever jinx she had came up with at the moment. He wants to raise his hands in a peace offering, but he’s blocked under the stack of books he’s just checked out from the library.

 

Any other time and her hazel eyes would’ve sparked with interest at the sudden stack of books; a new secret project she would insist to be a part of. Only this time when their eyes meet, it’s not brown against hazel.

 

They’re _blue_.

 

It makes him take a step back; stuck in a short gasp of air through his otherwise tightly pressed lips. He opens his mouth, but he can’t say anything. Confused blue eyes stare at him and he can’t take it. It’s far too cold, too sterile. It’s not right. It’s not _Rey_.

 

A new figure appears in the frame of the large window and Ben narrows his eyes at one of his housemates. It’s Connix, Sixth Year just like Rey. The Wampus girl is smiling, lips already moving. He can’t make out the first words, but he’s close enough to catch a few snippets. “… _oh_ – _I_ _love the new color! Very Witch Weekly – I mean, it suits you. You’re keeping it?”_

 

Bile starts to rise at the back of Ben’s throat.

 

Watching Rey shrink under both spectating eyes, she seems to shrug her shoulders. By that time, he has had enough. He turns around, never minding that he’d been heading the opposite the direction. He needs to move. Leave her. _Leave_.

 

_Don’t care. Don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter._

 

He doesn’t even take the time to identify the door before he storms into the first empty classroom he could find; heaving lungs running on battery acid as he slams the door shut. Leaning against it, Ben tries to erase the image of ice blue. The stack of books he’s been carrying is quickly dumped to the floor, his fingers suddenly weak from the weight.

 

The itch over his heart was already scarred and marked, but seeing her again only made it worse.

 

He had to- he needed to— he was burning up and he needed to break something and---

 

“ _Finally_!” a voice suddenly exclaims and Ben jumps up at the sound. The room is fairly lit compared to the corridor outside – a Lumos was casted along with a few extra candles. Despite the light, he can’t seem to find a source to the voice. “Thank god you finally got here… You’re here to help right? Or is it time for lunch already?”

 

Taking a step further inside the classroom, Ben narrows his eyes as his beaten Nikes steps onto broken shards of glass resting on the floor below. Then, after making a full 360°, he finally finds her.

 

“Phas?” he bites out, slightly compressed between confusion, shock and the steady waves of fire rolling over his shoulders, egging him on. “What… what are you doing here?”

 

She’s standing over at the far side of the classroom over by the bookshelves, hands frozen in a mid-rise to replace some books. Her uniform is decorated with small smudges of dirt; which is highly unlike her or any other Horned Serpent. It was fair to assume by her uniform and already tired eyes that she’d been here for a while.

 

“Cleaning up this mess, obviously.” She waves around the room. “It feels like I’ve been here for _hours_. It never seems to come to an end,” she goes on, pointing one accusing finger down at a half-fried, half-corroded cauldron resting on top of one of the marble tables. “How come it wasn’t a single Third Year who remembered the First Year _basic knowledge_ comparing pea-sized ingredients to corn-sized ones? _Huh?!”_

 

Ben blinks, suddenly feeling guilty, and also caught completely off-guard. Not that he’s in any way or form responsible for any Third Year’s potions-work, but from the way Phasma was looking, no, glaring at him, it was enough to convince him that yes, this was all his fault.

 

At first he had just stood there, staring at the mess of broken phials and brunt wood around him. It takes him a moment, but ever since walking inside, it’s only now that he first notices the surprisingly wrecked Potions classroom.

 

“What _happened_?” he breathes out.

 

“I already told you!”

 

He wasn’t ready to have a normal conversation with her right now, let alone enough patience to even listen to her go on one of her one-sided spiels like she often did. He still couldn’t stop thinking about the blue eyes, erasing the hazel, freezing and washing away all warmth. He wanted to throw something, but his hands were left hanging limp by his sides, eyes still scanning the classroom.

 

It grounded him.

 

Lost in his own head, Ben didn’t notice as Phasma snapped her fingers barely an inch away from his face. “Are you helping out or not?”

 

Helping her clean up the mess was the exact opposite of what Ben had wanted. What Ben wanted was beyond him, and apparently now erased under an icy sheet of blue. There was the easy option of leaving; going back to his schedule and prep for his next class, but that wasn’t for another 30 minutes and it was just down the hall. Even so, he kept still, staring at the classroom, feeling how his chest was still trying to catch up with filling his lungs with enough oxygen not to pass out.

 

“…Ben?”

 

Phasma’s voice is distant and muffled; almost making it sound like he’s at the bottom of a pool and she’s high above the surface. He can’t see her. Can’t hear her or grasp enough of her to stay in the same place. Instead he hears Rey’s voice. _Please_. _Don't do this Ben. Please don't go this way._

Nails bite into his palms. The words are only getting louder and louder and-

 

And he needs a distraction. At least that’s what Hux’ had said. He needs something to stop him from breaking down.

 

“I’ll stay for 30 minutes tops,” he speaks. “Then I really need to go. Can’t bail class.”

 

Tense shoulders square back as he moves around Phasma to get a better view of the room. There are at least two obliterated cauldrons with the exploding potions painting unique works Jackson Pollock over the nearest walls. As if that wasn’t enough, there’s glass and forgotten papers all over the floor.

 

Ben doesn’t like spending time in Potions. The smell was too heavy and acidic. It wasn’t like in Herbology. Working in the gardens and in the greenhouses were just as aggressive to his nose, but it was somehow more soothing. Softer. Like a home, wrapping underneath a bed of humidity and blooming flowers.

 

It was nothing like the raw sting of Potions.

 

Still, Ben decides to stay. He rather stays tormented with the smell for a while than risk going back. He’s refusing to feel anything more than the crunched glass underneath his feet, or the dust of the classroom after years of waiting finally diving out into the air.

 

Coughing, Ben steals a glance towards the door.

 

“So Professor Zeff left the classroom just like this?” Ben asked after yet another cringe-worthy discovery of a slimy mess.

 

“No, I volunteered to take clean up,” Phasma explains, which wasn’t surprising. Phasma was unofficially (but kind of officially) Zeff’s TA and Ben had spent more then enough hours in the library with her, grading First Year essays. “… and if I help out with this Zeff will write me a recommendation letter for next year. We made a deal and everything. That, plus I get the extra credit for taking the Elixirs class.”

 

The art of witches and wizards standing over a bubbling cauldron goes far past any record books and is often marked down as one of the most ancient forms of magic still intact today. From concocting the simple remedy for the common cold to brewing the elixir of life, it’s also considered one of the most time demanding and dangerous fields you could choose as a witch or wizard. Even so, with the risk of danger, getting apprenticeships or positions at brewing stations were proving to get more and more difficult.

 

Not that it would stop Phasma in any way, shape or form though. She was on a warpath on getting to where she was going. Even if that meant spending her entire Friday cleaning up a mess she most surely didn’t have anything to do with in the first place.

 

“ _And_ I get full access to the ingredients cabinet for potions of my own,” she adds after some thought like the cherry on top.

 

“And what do I get?” Ben asks.

 

She takes a moment to consider her options, thinks for a considerable, fair prize for his help. Because even though they’re friends who’d gone through years of school together, she did see the lack of motivation from his side of the room.

 

“I’ll buy you three rounds of Grey Grindylow,” she finally settles. “… If you’re up for it. Last time you fell asleep into Rey’s shoulder after just one glass.”

 

Cringing at the memory, Ben’s already tense hands make a rough snap. The cauldron he’d just started scrubbing clean drops back to the table again. Phasma must’ve misread his reaction for embarrassment, because she lets out a small chuckle, making some other comment about how he really wasn’t the right fit for a lightweight.

 

Not really up for much more talking, Ben keeps scrubbing.

 

Phasma had been in luck; Ben had been forced to learn cleaning charms by the age of five, so after a few sinuous motions of Scourgify and determined taps of Tergeo and Reparo, most of the table he was working on was wiped clean. The burnt scars faded and the traces of the failed potion shrunk into nothing as he waved his wand.

 

Examining the crime scene, it was almost like looking at a _Where’s Waldo?_ Puzzle. The classroom constantly revealed new splotches or stains. To his surprise (and to some extent fascination) he even caught a few neon-green dots decorating the ceiling.

 

Ben didn’t say anything as he walked over and lifted a tipped over chair back to its original place again, determined to fix the room piece by piece. Little by little, everything returned to its original place. A burnt book landed next to the other copies on one of the high-reached shelves, broken glass flew glittering across the room as it molded back together, mortar and pestles were swept aside and all forgotten notes of paper were stacked upon Professor Zeff’s desk. Rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

 

Phasma had moved over to the ingredients cabinet, grumbling under her breath how this would be the end of her. Still, that didn’t stop her from starting to reorganize the whole cabinet, falling quiet under deep concentration as she starts to list the inventory.

 

Ben couldn’t say he enjoyed the silence. Even without Phasma talking (or grumbling) it was nearly deafening as he tried again and again not to think of what he’d just ran away from. Blue eyes. He didn’t want to think about it. _Blue_. Didn’t want to add to the pressure already pushing on his chest. Blue.

 

_Damn it._

 

He had to stop. He couldn’t allow himself to think about it anymore.

 

It was too big for him. Too important.

 

And so, with each stroke of his wand getting sharper and harsher under his frustration, Ben kept himself busy with the dusty bottles and the broken glass on the floor. He keeps himself busy scrubbing the floor, carefully stepping around a pool of what looked like Lobalug venom, the moss green goo-texture still sizzling and hissing against the floor.

 

“Hey, Ben?” Phasma finally speaks.

 

“ _Mhmh_?”

 

“Thanks for helping out. I was really starting to stress out. Thought I wouldn’t be done for next class..”

 

“You’re always stressing out,” he reminds her. “You once sent me a letter about homework _on_ _summer break_.”

 

“That’s because my parents send me to a Potions Camp for a month. Taking lab in high temperatures is demanding and extremely unstable, you know that. I’ve sent you highly detailed postcards of SOS.”

 

“Summer is supposed to be a _break_ , Phas. It’s in the name.”

 

“Well yeah, maybe… but it’s been growing lately. The stress, I mean. Especially now when it’s only a year left for me and I… I mean… I haven’t even gotten started on writing out and applying for any apprenticeships yet.”

 

Ben, one year ahead of Phasma, was far more messed up with his life plan. He remember Hux taking the initiative to do all of his paperwork first week of this semester, even working to such lengths as to sending out Ben’s personal letters and applications all by himself. (He’s actively chosen to ignore the fact that his roommate has now perfected the false signature of his name, not really brave enough to think of the many ways Hux could possible use it in the future.) Honestly Ben didn’t even know what Hux had applied him for, but he didn’t really care anymore.

 

Phasma dusts off her school robe before she looks up again. “I’ll have Zeff’s recommendation, but I still have to write out my other credentials before it’s too late because all the good apothecaries close their applications early spring and… uuugghhhh.”

 

“You’re worried over nothing.”

 

There are more bad things going on in the world than worrying about missing applications for stupid apothecaries. Larger things were at stake. Who gave a damn if Phasma didn’t know how in what order she would list her nearly perfected resume of credits. She didn’t know anything about waiting or missing out opportunities or people.

 

Loosening the pale grip on his wand, suddenly realizing he’d come off too harsh, he turns to meet her eyes again. “You’ll be fine,” he adds after some thought, hoping it would ease out the anxiety.

 

“I’m doing better than you, I guess,” Phasma shrugged from the other side of the classroom. Her back was now turned against him so she missed catching the pained expression forming on his face. She keeps going, unaware of how she was only adding more wrinkles to his scrunched up face. “At least I know where I’m heading… Once I get back up to Calgary I’m back on track.”

 

“Back on track?”

 

“I mean.. I know where I am going,” she clarifies, like her whole life-plan is the most obvious story in the world.

 

Even though it would’ve been much closer for Phasma to attend to First Nations School of Wizardry hidden high up north in the Yukon Territory, the platinum blonde had decided to head south all the way down to Massachusetts just to fill the robes of blue and cranberry. Transcontinental travelling wasn’t uncommon for Ilvermorny students, but Phasma was the only one who still acted like a snowstorm was about to hit any second; always armoring herself with the full gear of layers and hats and scarfs even though it was only mid-October.

 

After one glance back towards the door again, Ben watches how Phasma lifts one of the dusty, unlabeled jars to inspect the mysterious ingredient. It looks like pickled Poison ivy, but from where he was sitting, Ben couldn’t be 100% sure.

 

Potions weren’t his forte anyway. That was all Phasma.

 

She used her talent in a range of ways too. Like how she went from most excelling student Professor Zeff had ever had in years to being the one person in the entire school to form a secret black market of herbs for research, painkillers and healing creams and potions. Everything is expensive and counts as a favor that should be given back at some point. Fucking mafia. We are talking The Godfather here. 

 

“I’ve made a map and a list. Year by year,” she explains and continues to - in a fairly light and therefore rare tone - listing the places she’s hoping to go to. Breweries and Potion Masters she’d like to have as mentors. For each name and place she mentions, Ben falls further and further into himself. “If everything goes as planned, I’ll be awarded with a first class O.M when I hit 25. I’ve got it all planned out.”

 

Ben didn’t.

 

And just like Phasma had said, his time was running out.

 

He _thought_ he’d had it all planned out. He thought he’d known where he was going, but it didn’t matter anymore. Once he graduated from Ilvermorny there wouldn’t be anything left.

 

“What’s up with you?” Phasma’s voice filters through, and Ben’s head snaps up to see that she’s moved to lean against the table he’s now sitting at. She has this look that tells him that he’s underestimated her. _Of course_ she’d suspected something. Just like the rest of her house she had eyes like a hawk.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean… what are you doing here right now, except for helping me scouring this place from floor to ceiling?”

 

“Huh?”

 

She sighs, some annoyance hinting in her eyes as she reaches over with her hand and knocks on his head.

 

“In here, you doof,” she rolls her eyes. “What’s going on _in here_?” She knocks on his head again to punctate her last words. She didn’t have to spell it all out for him to understand she was finally addressing the heartbreak in the room. Smart of her not mentioning Rey, directly. It somehow made it feel easier.

 

“Oh, I um… no, nothing. I uh… I’m just thinking.”

 

“About Rey? Or your life plan?”

 

“Rey. Mostly Rey.”

 

“Good start.”

 

He closes his eyes and thinks of hazel eyes and a freckled nose. “I just miss her so much.”

 

“Have you ever considered telling her that you miss her?”

 

Blinking, Ben shakes his head. That would probably just scare her even further away. “That’s not what this is about. It’s how we could… I mean… I tired to fix it,” he reasons, voice rumbling as if provoked. “I keep trying to think of a way… to find a way back but…”

 

“Keep doing that,” Phasma nods, crossing her arms as she stares down at him. Then, after some thought, she unfolds her arms and pulls her bag out with an Accio. After some digging, she pulls out a perfectly folded paper, slowly handing it out to him. “Help me fetch these ingredients, okay? Then we’re out of there. Class starts in ten.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Reading the note, Ben blinks down at the title his friend is supposedly planning to brew. There’s no title connected to the recipe but he recognizes the potion from the familiar list of contents. It’s written in a slightly cursive handwriting. Must’ve been in a hurry – some of the measurement scribbled out and small notes made in the margin. Biting his lip, Ben instantly catches himself secretly wanting it for himself.

 

“Why would you need a dose of Dreamless Sleep?” he slowly asks. “Nightmares again?” he adds, even though he’s very much aware that she’s not the one who’s taking the potion. He knows because it’s the exact same handwriting he’d gotten letters from all summer.

 

Every summer for the past five years.

 

Sometimes when he hadn’t heard from her in a while he would re-read them, rolling his eyes and biting has nails at how stupid he sometimes had made himself sound in his replies and questions. Not that Rey care or notice. Rey kept writing to him all the same.

 

That would probably end this summer though. Especially now, since apparently, he was giving her nightmares, dark enough to make her want to drink a brew of a dark purple, nearly black in color.

 

Not a single hesitation or sign to give her lie away, Phasma quickly makes up an excuse to ben’s previous question. “It’s a project Zeff gave me to work on,” she blurts out in a hurried explanation and it makes him smile because it only proves what kind of a friend Phasma is. Blindly loyal.

 

“Let me know if I can help,” Ben offers.

 

Phasma scoffs. “Get a grip,” she shakes her head. “No way. I’m _not_ letting you _anywhere_ near my work. Last time I heard you nearly went head first into a cauldron with a half-finished Alihotsy Draught!”

 

“Fair point,” he shrugged his shoulders, clenching Rey’s note in his hand. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help though,” he adds, secretly hoping that even though Rey wasn’t talking to him, and he wasn’t talking to her, he could still be given the relief of knowing she was alright.

 

“Whatever,” Phasma waves her hand aimlessly, and soon enough they’re back to silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There are small lanterns leading up to the Quodpot pitch. They didn’t want any First Years getting lost and derailed to go on the opposite route heading into the forest or god forbid into the mountains. Most of the environment surrounding the school is treacherous _._  Steep footpaths and snow blizzards are the least of the students’ worries. Trolls live in the lake caves, lindworms live on the mountainsides, and an XXXX-beast lives in the icy recesses of the lake.

 

Ben makes it to the Quodpot pitch without getting lost.

 

The weather has cleared up.

 

The two Quodpot Captains completely dismisses the traditional friendly handshake for the match. The teams are already lined up on each side of the pitch, formations already in place. This time the Pukwudgie team is fully equipped – their best player with her signature three buns finally standing with them under the cloudy sky.

 

She looks determined, eyes already locked on the triggered Quod resting at the middle of the field. She looks more than ready to push off with her broom – a broom she herself had bewitched to lift her higher up in the air than necessary. Ben sometimes worries that Rey’s DIY’s have crossed over the line, but watching her play always proved him wrong. She’d had Poe as her mentor for most of her school years trying to get a grip on flying, sometimes even going so far as to manipulating the waves of the wind to curve a throw of the Quod.

 

Simmons, the referee, waved his hands in a silent countdown. Once he hits zero, the entire crowd breaks out into a soaring roar.

 

Ben knows he should’ve stayed focused on the Wampus Warriors. He should’ve followed Ernie’s blurred figure speeding past him, or at least checking in with Hux and Tank working the backlines of the field, blocking any potential attack on their goal.

 

While the arena lacks any obstacles it doesn’t take long for the game to rise into an extremely intense and strategic play. Everything relies heavily on teamwork and maybe just a bit of luck. First 10 minutes of the game, the Pukwudgies manages to set up a well-timed strike also called out as a "bomb rush" – moving all across the field in a shield of seven players all flying guard around their Point Attacker.

 

Ben doesn’t cheer with the rest of the crowd when the first goal is scored. He knows should be invested in the game but instead he keeps himself occupied with the small box of popcorn Rose had once again brought to the stand. Only time he notices there’s a goal is whenever Rose goes nuts next to him, sometimes even rising to her feet with her arms flying all over the place as she either protests or join the growing applaud.

 

If Hux would’ve looked over to where they were sitting right now he would’ve probably stopped the entire game just to yell his lungs out at Ben for not paying attention – but technically, at least from Ben’s point of view, he was technically kind of still distracting himself… Just not with the game like intended, but rather with trademarked Kiwi-flavored popcorn.

 

He does get his fair share of updates from his ever so enthusiastic company though.

 

“NOT FAIR!” Rose booms just a few minutes. Sometimes her voice is even loud enough to make the entire crowd join in with her boo-s and protests. “That deserves a penalty! _Pen-al-ty!”_ Ben doesn’t take the time to look up from his popcorn to note which team is taking the hit, but knowing Rose, it’s probably the Pukwudgies.

 

There’s only 5 minutes left of the game when Ben looks up for the first time.

 

He looks up because for the first time since Simmons had started the game it had now grown deadly silent. It started with the sound of something snapping and breaking into two; maybe a piece of wood or something – and then just a collective silence filling up the entire space of the game. And while it could’ve just been a large-scale Muffliato Ben just _knows_ it _isn’t_. He doesn’t feel the warm invisible cape of the silencing charm draping over his head. Instead, he feels how everyone around him suddenly has turned cold.

 

First thing he notices is how every single player on the field is rushing towards the corner of the playing ground. Even the Blockers, usually guarding the goals are lunging towards the same point, and from the looks of it, they weren’t rushing for the Quod.

 

There’s a person falling.

 

Falling-

 

Falling-

 

Falling-

 

And then there’s Rey, steady on her broom, fastest player on the entire field – zooming towards the falling figure. She was the quickest to close in on the descending player. She was flying in so fast – so incredibly close with her fingers outstretched just barely there but it’s not enough. Her quick dive isn’t fast enough to save the falling player and just before it’s too late and Rey would crash to her own demise she has to round up again.

 

One person keeps falling.

 

Once the body hits the ground a loud _thunk_ echoes over the field.

 

Simmons has already landed and is kneeling next to the fallen player – resting on the grass with their legs in an awkward position. Face twisted in pain. That’s all it takes for Ben to move. He doesn’t really think of the most logical way to get over to the wounded; his more irrational side just makes him jump over the edge of his spectators seat, jumping down onto the court before sprinting over the field.

 

Both teams have gathered around the player and its only now up close that Ben recognizes the player. It’s Anya, the Pukwudgies newest recruit to the team. Ben knows this because he was there during their tryouts to support Rey. Not that Rey needed the support, but she hadn’t exactly complained once he’d shown up at the lechers, only making one joke about him being a spy for Hux and the Wampus team.

 

Anya was the youngest recruit on the Pukwudgie team, only at her Second Year at Ilvermorny. The rest of the team had been skeptical of letting her join; she only started flying once she got to school, but Rey had insisted. It was Rey who’d rooted for her, telling everyone just to give her a chance.

 

“Fix her, Ben,” Hux rasps out while simultaneously pushing Ernie and Tank out of the way to clear a path. “No pressure, but you’re probably the best shot we got right now.”

 

It’s strange. Even though Pukwudgies are mostly known for their Healers and their heart, they all let Ben get all the way up front.

 

Beads of sweat already forming on his forehead, Ben ignores all the stares as he finally kneels down next to Anya. He checked her pulse, counted her breathing while trying his best to give her a fair diagnosis. Simmons has already done the basic procedures of casting the simplest and quickest forms of healing charms and one Pukwudgie had already elevated Anya’s head to rest in their lap. She’d hit her head, but from Ben’s light pokes and the magic from Simmons she was slowly starting to come back again. Once she opened her eyes again there was a collective sigh amongst the entire crowd. Ben didn’t make a sound – still fully focused on Anya. First there was shock, taking in the surrounding wall of people… He watched as she caught a glance at her legs – a flood of panic filling her teary eyes.

 

“You’re going to be okay,” he quickly said whole moving to lean over her to block her view from any further inspection of her broken legs. Not that that would block out the apparent pain she was already in, but it would hopefully help with the panic. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

“I-”

 

He tapped her leg with his wand and muttered Ferula. Bandages spun up her leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. Once her leg was secured, Ben moved away to clear the space. It took some planning and shoving – but eventually he got her out of the encircled crowd, gently carrying her out of the field back towards the castle. He could feel a person tapping in to walk in his shadow, but whoever it was didn’t get very far. Simmons was already trying to get the two teams back up and flying.

 

“We can’t postpone this game again guys. Just bare with me the last 10 minutes and we’ll have a winner.”

 

“We just want to make sure Anya’s okay.”

 

“Anya will be fine – she’s with Solo, remember? Now lets get this over with.”

 

Ben carries Anya all the way back to the Medical Wing, making sure to joke about how this was all part of an elaborate plan to make Wampus win, offering her one of the rare but golden Solo-smirks Han had warned him not to use too often. _Only when you have a bad feeling, son._ Once they reach the Medical Wing he lays her down on one of the beds, making sure her head is resting comfortably against the pillow before moving over towards the potions cabinet. He knows his way around the Medical Wing – he has spent most of his free time here over the past seven years – and the staff who usually worked here considered him part of the team. Though they were also very stern on Ben keeping up with his studies, more than often ushering him away from a patient reminding him that he should prioritize his homework before taking on extra responsibilities like nursing misfortunate First Years back to health.

 

“Ben?”

 

Ben looks over his shoulder, lowering his gaze slightly to find a familiar face. It makes him smile. “Hi Doc,” he greets the short, grey, large-eared creature dressed in a white doctor’s robe.

 

A pen is clicked and a clipboard is brought forth. “What’s going on?”

 

“Accident during Quodpot. Anya fell about 90 feet from her broom,” Ben says. “I think I got the standard procedure but I’m second-guessing myself.”

 

“Ha! You always do…” Doc (a nickname only Ben is allowed to use and address him with) scoffs, pointing a grey finger over his shoulder. “I’ll go to the kitchens and get her some lemonade and chocolate.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Ben to find the potions he’s looking for, soon enough returning to his bedside with a small smile. He gives her a cocktail of Calming Draught and healing herbs to sooth down her pained expression. Once she’s taken the full dose she release all of the anxiety in a peaceful sigh. “Thanks, Ben.”

 

“No problem.”

 

“You think we still got a chance of winning?”

 

“I’m not on your team.”

 

“Might as well be,” she snorts. “You’re with us the majority of the time anyway… Or… at least you used to be…” She closes her eyes, probably a little overwhelmed with the radical shift from pain to peace. For a moment he thinks she’s about to pass out, but then she blinks her green eyes open again. “She misses you.”

 

Ben presses his lips into a tight line before answering.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, scooting down to look at her wrapped leg. “I really need to work on your leg. Just… stay still.”

 

He starts muttering out small incarnations, having an silent and internal debate with himself whether or not to use Dittany on her knee, just to make sure it healed properly. In the end, he decides that the healing spells would be enough for now – he just had to make sure the magic covered all of it.

 

“Ben.”

 

He doesn’t look up, still waving his hand over her leg. “Hmm?”

 

“ _Ben_.”

 

“Try to get some sleep, Anya.”

 

“But…”

 

“You’re going to be okay. I’m almost done here and you’ll be walking out of here in no time.”

 

He can hear her slam her head back against the pillow again, growling under her breath, “God, Rey was right. You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

 

And although the mention of Rey should’ve hurt; it makes him smile. Because Rey calling him an idiot didn’t always mean that he was said idiot. Sometimes, like when he would sneak into her dorm to bring her a bowl of soup upon hearing that she’d caught a fever, those words would’ve meant something else. There were memories like when they had finally come to a checkmate of a snowball fight and she’d tackled him down into the snow it had meant something more.

 

“… you’re lucky she thinks you’re funny,” Anya adds with a yawn.

 

Rolling his eyes, he tells her to take a nap, threatening to give her a Sleeping Draught if she didn’t.

 

In the far distance, filtering through one of the open windows of the Medical Wing, Ben can hear a big roar signaling that the game was over. He secretly hopes that the Pukwudgies won – then again, then he would have to deal with Hux’s whining for the rest of the year…

 

Shaking his head, Ben goes back to helping Anya. By now, Doc has returned with the chocolate and a glass of lemonade. Ben gets one too - which he of course gladly accepts before taking his seat next to Anya’s bed again. He goes over all the charms he’d casted with Doc, walking through the treatment and what he maybe could’ve done better.

 

Doc is in the middle of going through the list of in which order the healing spells becomes more effective when the doors to the Medical Wing are thrown open. The entirety of the Pukwudgie team is storming inside, still in full gear and with broomsticks in their hands. Ben’s surprised they hadn’t tried flying in through the windows to get here faster. Some of them even have remnants of explosions still glowing on them; small fires yet to be put out.

 

“Anya?” one of them speaks even before they’ve reached the bed. “You okay babe?”

 

After a quick calculation, Ben decides to give up his seat next to Anya, more than sure that one of the Pukwudgie players would’ve made him move out of the way if he hadn’t. He gets out just before the team creates a human wall around the injured Second Year, voice mumbling and soothing.

 

Ben starts to walk away from the scene, cracking his knuckles on his way out. He didn’t have anything left to do there, other than keeping Anya company of course. But that was being taken care of by an entire team of Pukwudgies. And if they had any questions about Anya he was certain that Doc would be able to fill the team in on the situation.

 

“Did we win?” he can hear her ask in her tiny, sleepy voice.

 

“Nah, but it doesn’t matter,” their captain answers. “As long as you’re okay we’re good.”

 

Once Ben has reached the door he takes one last glance back towards Anya’s bed. Big mistake, because he’s met with two blue eyes, staring right back at him. It looks like she’s about to tell him something; maybe asking him to wait - but he won’t let her say anything. Any other day and he would’ve walked up to her, talked to her, or at least meet her gaze. Today he just can’t. Because they’re still icy blue and wrong. So wrong – not part of Rey.

 

Leaving her isn’t as hard as it usually is. He’s just so desperate to get away from her blue eyes. Leaving her behind doesn’t hurt as much as actually meeting her stare of ice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She finds him back at the Wampus Common Room.

 

He hadn’t expected her to show up. If he’d known he wouldn’t have let Phasma and Ernie get him this drunk. It had started the second he’d stepped inside; both of them suddenly on each side of him with sly grins as they made a celebratory victory dance with him. Quickly noticing Ben hadn’t been on their level Ernie had slammed a hand down onto Ben’s shoulder.

 

“SOLO!” he grinned with a million dollar smile. “You missed the last 10 minutes of the game because you were busy saving lives, but in case you haven’t heard, _we WON_.” And while Hux and Phasma had high-fived at the pronouncement Ben hadn’t been fast enough to catch it. Ernie had pushes a red cup into his free hand. “Gotta celebrate, bro. Bottoms up!”

 

Happy to numb some feeling, Ben chugs down the cup in one go.

 

“So, how did we win?”

 

“It was just like in the movies. Don’t you agree?” Ernie grins, elbowing the Wampus Captain in the ribs. “Didja see me, Armie? I was like _zoop_ , and the Pukwedgies was like _Whaaa_ and I went _uh uh_ , score! How you like me now?”

 

“You wouldn’t have scored if it wasn’t for Tank,” Hux rolls his eyes.

 

“Tank is really the best Blocker of the century,” Phasma nods. "Pukwudgies were close to winning though. they calculated the rotation of the quod so they could hit it in the best moment, how is that not cheating… What? No, I'm not bitter I just stating- _”_ "

 

Ernie raised his cup and it was magically filled again. “FOR  _WAMPUS_!” he shouted, looking disappointed when Ben didn’t join in. “I forgot to ask. How’s that girl, um, Anna, no, AnYA holding up?” Ernie went on in a small slur.

 

“ _Anya_ ,” Ben nodded, sipping on his drink again. “She’s okay.”

 

Ben had tried to reside to one of the comfortable couches in the room, but he’d gotten stuck in the middle of the ongoing debate on whether the plural is “Wampuses” or “Wampi”. A handful is pushing for “Wampodai”. Then there was the constant encouragement of smashing their cups together in cheers of victory and chants of the team. Once he’s raised his glass a total of seven times is he allowed going past the human barricade, only to come face to face with a new challenge.

 

“YOU!”

 

A thick and calloused finger goes to point at Ben’s wide-open eyes, waiting for his doom.

 

“Rose!” he greets her, actually smiling down at her.

 

“Congratulations on the win,” she claps one hand slowly against his chest, not even attempting to reach up to his shoulder or head. “It was a close call but you folks won.”

 

“I missed the last goal,” Ben reminded her. “Was it any good?”

 

“I almost missed it too,” Rose mutters, now crossing her arms before blowing up some air through her bangs. “I really need to get an haircut soon. I almost missed the goal because of this thing,” she shakes her head, making her frizzy haircut get even messier. It’s like a thick curtain over her eyebrows.

 

Ben tilts his head to the side, imagining Rose without bangs for a moment. It didn’t look too bad, but he wasn’t exactly the expert. “You could always ask Hux to help you. He’s got a 20-minute hair routine every morning. I’m sure he’d help you out with a trim.”

 

Rose actively takes a step back. “Are you insane?”

 

“It was just a suggestion.”

 

“Well my answer is _no_.”

 

“He’s really not that bad.”

 

“If you’re referring to that time in Fifth Year when he let you sport a hippie-look with shoulder length hair, it really was _bad_ ,” Rose argues. “You looked like something from a comic book. Rey’s the only reason we didn’t chop it off. Says her Forth Year was the best.”

 

Usually Rose knows how to filter her words. She knows how to judge a character and make rules and guidelines; draw a line of what’s okay and what’s not worth or smart to mention. With a bit of alcohol in her system all of that seems to go away. And this time it hurts. Because he doesn’t want to remember Rey braiding his hair – because that reminded him of his mother and that was even worse. It was two wrongs in one memory and it made his whole body go tense.

 

Maybe he should just leave.

 

Go back to his dorm, his room and end the night… yeah, sure. Let’s go.

 

“Wait, Ben, what-“ He began to walk past her, heading for the door. Rose was up in a flash, arms crossed defiantly as she stood in his path. “Hold on, what’s going on?”

 

“Uh. Hux called me over.”

 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Rose shot back. “No one’s there. Nothing. I’m not letting you leave until you talk to me properly.”

 

Ben smirked. “Rose, I’m twice your size.”

 

“So? I can still take you.” It was enough to make him pause, and Rose’s hand shifted to plant on her hips. The concerned tone in her voice wasn’t at all very comforting. “What the hell just happened?”

 

“What?” he tried to protest.

 

“Ben, stop it. What’s wrong? Was it because I mentioned Rey?” Ben shakes his head, but Rose sees the opposite. “It’s okay to feel bad,” she continues.

  

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Nothing left to say, I guess.”

 

“That’s not what Phasma told me,” Rose raise her eyebrow. “She said you were working on some master plan. And honestly, I want in.”

 

"Huh?"

 

"How long are you planning on avoiding her? ... Cuz you know that won’t work out in the long term "

   

Ben bites his lip. It felt like the other way around, but today the roles had changed apparently.

 

“Is she still mad?” he counters.

 

“She’s _upset_ , but not mad,” she justifies.

 

“ _Rose_.” He buries his head into his palm. “Please. Just stay out of it. Please?”

 

"Fine. What do you want to talk about then?"

 

He shrugged. "I don't know, the Claudius clean sweep, the founder of modern Quidditch, I have no fucking idea, anything but Rey."

 

“You know what? I’m gonna go get us some more drinks and then we’ll talk this out. All cards on the table, okay?”

 

Ben drops his hand to look her straight in the eyes. “No!”

 

“I’ll be back in a second,” Rose nods, never minding his obvious rejection. She pats his chest again, right above his heart, which still doesn’t feel whole, and then she walks away.

 

There might as well have been a neon sign hanging above his head pointing a huge arrow down to the loser sitting in the coach, because as soon as the doors open, people swarm towards him. At one point he’s sure a newly found couple are trying to get him to move so that they can have the whole couch as a make out spot, but he stays seated. He’s doing everyone a huge favor keeping the couch PG-13.

 

He didn’t really notice when the Pukwudgie team actually showed up to the party, but before he could even blink one of Rey's roommates Gaby jumped down in the seat next to him, balancing a miniature firework in one hand, a glass of Gigglewater in the other. Not really up for another interrogation, but also very eager to escape from whatever Rose would be returning with, Ben jumped up from the couch in a flash.

 

There’s a group of Wampus students (some too young to be up this late if you ask Ben) eagerly playing a small fight of wandless dueling. Because the most important tool of tapping into one’s inner magic is stripped away, most of the duels doesn’t carry out to more than cuts and bruises, but just as Ben walks by, one of them actually manage to make their opponent fall down to the floor. Ben would've, or probably _should've_ told them to call it quits, but they're already up and going in a very daring Round Two.

 

Ben keeps drinking, eyes scanning the room now filled with new people from opposite houses.

 

The searing firewhisky seemed to burn feeling back into him, dispelling the numbness and sense of unreality firing him with something that was like courage. He steals a glance over at where most of thePukwudgies are stationed. It doesn't take long to find Rey. Rey - who's appears to be in the middle of a drinking game. She's off to the side of the crowd wrapped in all the shine and glitter of a New Years Eve celebration. It's like she was a living form of Lumos. So fitting to everything she embodied.

 

Well... most of the time.

 

At this particular moment, however, she was in the middle of securing two red solo cups to Finn's hands with no-maj duct tape. Hux is standing right next to her, acting as her assistant; more than ready by the sidelines to fill the cups with booze. All the while, all three of them are swaying to the song playing in the background.

 

From the looks of it, Hux has gone soft enough to actually start _humming_.

 

Unbelievable.

 

Ben doesn't spend much time focusing on his roommate, however. It's all Rey.

 

Swinging back on his heels, he finally takes a deep breath and decides to run for it before he did something stupid again. He gets up, and when he does, her whole body swings around to look at him. Still with her blue eyes. Still with the same hurt.

 

Fuck, he needed a smoke.

 

She calls out his name. Or at least he thinks she does. But he doesn’t answer her call. He doesn’t look very much longer into her eyes; maybe scared he’ll fall right in. Freeze in the middle of the glacier that isn’t Rey. Blue, blue eyes that aren’t hers. That isn’t Rey.

 

He doesn’t look up from his shoes until he’s safely shut the door to his and Hux’s dorm behind him,

 

The clock hanging on the wall tells him it’s just a little bit after midnight. And while last year Ben would’ve stayed up all night without as much as feeling strained, Ben collapsed into the bed like he’d just been running a for a lifetime.

 

God, he was starting to become just like dad.

 

Fuck.

 

Closing his eyes, Ben feels how the dizzy feeling keeps spinning him round and around like he’s head is trapped in a laundry machine. It’s weird because he knows he’s lying completely still. A Pepper-up potion would put some ease to the upside down feeling but at this very moment Ben actually welcomes it. He’s right there on the edge of passing out and blanking out. And it’s soft on him. It’s slowly easing him into the buzz.

 

Sleep steals him away.

 

For a moment he’s gone.

 

Then there’s the light knocking on the door. A quiet Alohomora. Ben stirs awake just in time to see Rey close the door behind her, pressing her back up against it. It’s dark, and her eyes, _blue blue blue_ , must’ve still been adjusting, because he gasps for air long before she does.

 

“Rey?” he rasps out.

 

He glances at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. _4 AM._ Must’ve been one hell of a party…

 

“No,” Rey shakes her head. “No talking,” she whispers, stumbling forward as her hands go out in front of her to feel for his bedpost. She nearly falls straight into his bed and, mind you, into Ben – but he jumps up from the pillows seconds before she hits.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“ _Shhh_ … Too heavy.. too long walk back to Pukwudgie.”

 

Ben presses his lips into a tight line. This is the closest he’s been to Rey in days. This is the longest conversation they have had since the fight. And still, even though she’s telling him to shut up, he keeps trying to make it longer. Make it last just for a few more words.

 

“I’ll um… I’ll take the couch.”

 

“Don’t make me even angrier,” she mutters into his pillow, a lazy and tired hand trying to reach out for him. It proves to be difficult to dodge her (she’s an excellent Quodpot player, after all,) but Ben has sobered up somewhat compared to Rey. She gives up with her failed waving around the empty air after only a few seconds, her hand dumping down into the bed again. “I’m so tired of being mad.”

 

_“I am so sorr-”_

 

“No. Don’t wake me up.”

 

Even though she’s not listening; even though she’s surrounded herself with walls tall enough to reach the stars, Ben knows she can still hear him. There’s so much he wants to tell her but it doesn’t make any sense. He’s still so tired and so dizzy and so scared that she’s actually right next to him again. So he tells her to _wait. Please wait_.

 

He sits down on the bed again - very careful not to touch her. “…Rey?”

 

“Don’t wake me up. Don’t- don’t wake me up.”

 

He looks down at her small form and he gulps. He could hold her again. It would be worth it. Just one more night holding her, and she could continue hating him in the morning. That wasn’t the right thing to do though.

 

She yawns and her nose scrunches up as she feels the bed dip. She feels him leave.

  

“Goodnight Rey.”

    

“I... I always miss you.”

 

 _Not Rey,_ Ben reminds himself.

  

“Just try to get some sleep, okay?”

 

She sighs, and for a moment he thinks she's actually's fallen asleep, maybe expecting a light snore. Then she speaks again, and although he knows he can't take any of her words serious at this drunk condition she was in, it digs into him like a nail. And when she looks up at him, blue eyes and everything, for the first time since her damn Transfiguration lesson, he sees _Rey_. Beyond a sea of blue, beyond the stormy waves and the icy fields she'd built up, he can see her standing on the other side.

 

"You're lucky you're mine," she mumbles, already half-asleep, half in a dream.

 

(Ben will lie awake, half-folded in the couch over by the window while silently counting his breaths for the rest of the night. Seeing it that there's only three hours left until breakfast he can't see any use in trying to fall back into place again. He closes his eyes though, just in case Rey ever wakes up to glance over towards the couch. He doesn't want to scare her away, and he doesn't want to talk. Not right now, anyway..).

 

Rey talk in her sleep sometimes. Usually he tease her about it, poking fun at her absurd and strange dreams. Tonight, however, it's just a few reoccurring words.

 

His name is one of them.

 

He just prays to god she won't hex him in the morning when she wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me Ilvermony students protesting the omission of contributions by enslaved African witches and wizards in their history textbooks. Give me Ilvermony students campaigning for werewolf rights. Give me a history of Native witches and wizards being forced to attend Ilvermony despite it’s complete ignorance of their own practices.

**Author's Note:**

> Until the very end.


End file.
